I laughed. "A mother who can't even afford to buy clothes for her kid? I'd rather she never had me."

The livestream exploded.

[Ungrateful wretch!]

[Sucking her mother dry just to get top grades!]

[Look at how she's dressed—clearly no good. Hair that short, can't even tell if it's a boy or girl. Probably runs with a bad crowd.]

That last comment shot straight to the top.

Mom sobbed through her explanation: "Doris used to be such a good girl..."

The reporter cut in. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Young lady, what's your reasoning for saying that?"

Mom's tears dripped onto my hand. "You have such a bright future ahead of you. Don't say things out of anger that might ruin it..."

I yanked my hand back. Hard. The seam of my uniform tore wide open.

I ripped off the jacket entirely and hurled it to the ground.

[Wait... that body...]

[Is that a guy or a girl? Eighteen and not developed at all?]

[No Adam's apple though. And completely flat below the neck...]

Mom scrambled to explain. "She's malnourished. A late bloomer..."

Aunt Naomi's laugh was a serrated blade. "Some people are just blessed—a mother who dotes on them, vitamins since childhood—and they still don't appreciate it."

Uncle Albert's voice cracked like a whip. "Have you been stealing diet pills?! Is there anything you won't stoop to?!"

The stares closed in like needles piercing flesh.

All those eyes fixed on my flat chest. The whispers. The probing curiosity. The contempt.

My throat seized. My stomach churned.

"Don't touch me!"

I shoved. Hard.

Mom staggered backward, her foot caught on something, and she crumpled to the ground.

"Doris, have you lost your mind?! How has your mother ever wronged you?!"

Mom lay there, blood seeping from a gash at her temple. Her voice was so fragile it could shatter. "Sweetheart... Mama's dirty, I know. But the money I got picking through trash to buy you supplements... that money was clean."

"It's Mama's fault. I won't do it anymore, I promise. Just... please eat properly..."

A needle of pain lanced through my chest. I opened my mouth to say I'd never meant to stop eating—

Uncle Albert's fist found me first.

The first blow landed on my shoulder. The second and third rained down on my back, my arms, his fists falling like hail.

I didn't dodge. I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached.

Somewhere, people screamed. Someone tried to pull him off. He roared like a maddened lion: "Anyone who gets in my way today answers to me! Animals like this don't learn unless you beat it into them!"

I collapsed onto the ground. A cough tore through me, and blood-flecked foam splattered the concrete.

"That's... really brutal," someone murmured.

"Serves her right! Ungrateful brats deserve a beating!"

"Why's her face so white? Doesn't look like she's faking..."

"You think she's on something? I heard some students these days..."

The comments kept scrolling:

[Weren't you just so tough with your mom? Cat got your tongue now?]

[Pathetic. All bark, no bite. Only brave enough to hurt the person who loves her most.]

Mom dragged herself up from the ground and threw her body over mine like a shield. "It's my fault... I raised her wrong... Blame me..."

Her hand reached toward my face. I turned away.

I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth. And laughed.

"Why are you pretending to be the saint now? Now you care? Where was this concern when you were the one pushing me back then?"

Aunt Naomi shrieked. "What nonsense are you spouting?! Your mother wouldn't even eat meat just so YOU could have some!"

I braced my hands against the ground, trying to stand. My legs refused. I gave up and sat there, pointing straight at Uncle Albert.

"Your whole family—you watched your own sister sweep streets and dig through garbage while you strutted around in designer clothes and drove your fancy car. Did you help her once? YOU'RE the parasites! YOU'RE the ungrateful leeches! And now, seeing me like this?" A bitter smile twisted my lips. "You must be thrilled."

Uncle Albert's eyes went completely red. "I'll tear your mouth apart!"

He charged forward, snatched my backpack from where I'd thrown it on the ground, and swung it at me with full force.

The zipper burst open.

Everything inside flew out in a white cascade, like a sudden downpour of paper rain.

Pill boxes. Rolls of bandages.

All movement stopped.

Someone bent down and picked up a box. "Is this..."

"These are hormone medications!"

Someone else grabbed the document folder. I struggled to snatch it back, but my body was too weak to move.

Inside was a stack of lab reports.

The one on top showed estrogen levels so low they were barely detectable.

The comments section went blank for a few seconds, then exploded:

[Why would a girl be taking estrogen? Is she trans or something?]

[Must've caught something from sleeping around!]

[Mentally ill! Taking all this random crap!]

Mom froze.

Her lips trembled, but no words came out.

Aunt Naomi rushed over and slapped me twice across the face. "What have you been doing out there? Where did these drugs come from?"

My head snapped to the side. My ears rang.

I turned back.

And then I laughed—a wild, liberating laugh.

"That's right. I'm sick."

Every word came out razor-sharp. "The kind of sick where I'll die without medication. Happy now?"

Insults crashed over me from every direction.

"Freak!" "Pervert!" "Disgrace!"

Mom suddenly burst into sobs. She dropped to her knees and grabbed my arm. "It's my fault. Mommy didn't take care of you. Why didn't you tell me you were sick? However much it costs, Mommy will get you treated..."

Uncle Albert yanked her away. "Wake up! She brought this on herself! Born rotten! Cursed her own father to death! Cursed her own mother!"

I looked at my uncle. Then at my mother, still crying. Then at all those cameras pointed at me.

"Fine."

My voice came out so calm it surprised even me.

"Since you all think I was born rotten, I'll own it."

"Let's sever ties."

"From now on, I have no mother. No uncle. No aunt. Pretend that eighteen years ago, I really did drown in that chamber pot."

I picked up a lab report and scrawled a few lines on the back.

I threw the paper at Uncle Albert's feet.

"Sign it."

"Sign it, and I disappear forever."

"If we don't cut ties today, I'll take your surname!"

Uncle Albert's spit nearly hit my face. "From this day forward, no one in this family will ever acknowledge you!"

Mom's face was streaked with tears mixing with the blood from her forehead. "No! Mommy won't do it! Mommy won't cut ties!"

I pressed my bleeding thumb onto the severance document, leaving a vivid red print.

The blood seeped into the paper, blooming like a deformed flower.

I held up the paper. "As of today, I have no father. No mother."

Curses erupted around me.

"Sinner! Why keep a daughter like this around?"

"Look what she did to her own mother!"

"Born defiant—a wolf that can never be tamed!"

Just then, a blue verified badge floated across the livestream comments:

[I'm a physician in the Endocrinology Department at a top-tier teaching hospital. These lab results don't add up. If hormone levels were really this chaotic, a normal person would already have severe kidney damage or even organ failure. There's no way she'd still be standing here.]

Mom lunged forward and snatched the severance document from my hands, tearing it to shreds. "Mommy can't lose you..."

I tried to pull away, but she held on too tight.

"I don't have a mother like you."

Pat, the neighbor, came over to mediate. "Doris, sweetie, you used to hold your mom's hand walking to and from school every day. Remember when she was late picking you up once, and you cried your little eyes out? You two were so close—there must be some misunderstanding..."

Aunt Naomi sneered from the sidelines. "Can't tame an ungrateful wretch."

A woman in the crowd couldn't take it anymore. "These two are still bleeding—shouldn't someone call an ambulance?"

But the mob had packed in three layers deep. There was no way out.

I stared at the sea of phone cameras, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"You all want to know so badly, don't you?"

"Why this ungrateful wretch turned out the way she did?"

I turned to the reporter. "Ms. Monroe. Are you brave enough to come with me? I'd like to invite you and a few witnesses to see the 'hospital' where I've been getting treatment."

Rachel froze for a beat. Then her journalist instincts kicked in, and she nodded.

Ten minutes later, the news van pulled up.

We drove toward the outskirts. The roads narrowed. Buildings crumbled. Sewage pooled on the ground.

Comments flooded the stream:

[Why would anyone come HERE for medical care? Is this a drug den?]

I kept my face blank. "We were poor. Couldn't afford a real hospital."

Mom sobbed the entire way, repeating "I'm sorry" and "Mommy will take you to a real doctor."

The van stopped in front of a doorway with no sign.

Inside, a single fluorescent bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting dim, sickly light.

The floor was littered with used syringes, blood-stained cotton swabs, and torn blister packs.

The examination table was covered in yellowed plastic sheeting. On a rusted metal tray beside it sat a collection of corroded forceps.

Everyone went still.

One of the witnesses—Dr. Finch—spoke first, his voice hard. "Medical waste disposed of like this? This violates every regulation in the book."

The comments exploded:

[WHAT THE HELL IS THIS PLACE?!]

[Is this healthcare or a death sentence?!]

[Her own mother brought her HERE?]

[Wait... why does this look so familiar...]

Rachel inhaled sharply.

"This—this matches the description of that illegal clinic our station exposed: unlicensed injections, unverified medications..."

Mom rushed over and grabbed my arm. "Doris, why would you come to a place like this..."

Uncle Albert and Aunt Naomi exchanged a look. Their expressions shifted into something strange—guarded. Neither said a word.

I pulled out a piece of paper, folded with care, and looked at my mother's face—gray and hollow in the dim light.

"You coaxed me into taking your 'vitamins' for eighteen years. You thought I'd never find out."

"And I didn't. Because I was stupid. Stupid enough to believe that if I just did everything you said, you'd finally be satisfied. You'd finally love me."

Uncle Albert scrolled through his phone, irritated. "What story is she spinning now? The comments all say she's a pathological liar—"

I ignored him and unfolded the paper.

The camera pushed in close.

Silence.

Total, suffocating silence.

Even the stray dogs outside stopped barking.

Rachel's microphone slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground.

The livestream froze. Three full seconds passed without a single comment.